


Heart-Shaped Box

by tattooeddevil



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Crack, Gen, Potty-mouth Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers meet the hunters Winchesters. The superheros will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart-Shaped Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antrazi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antrazi/gifts).



> Written for Antrazi, who requested "SHIELD and the Avengers meet the hunters Winchesters. The superheros will never be the same." I didn't quite manage to get SHIELD in, but the Avengers are part of SHIELD so I figured I could cheat on that one :P
> 
> You might not get all references if you haven't seen Age of Ultron or you might get spoiled, so please be careful!

**Natasha**

“--the hell?!”

Normally Clint’s exclamation wouldn’t have woken Natasha, but it was 4am and they had just climbed in through the window of Clint’s New York studio apartment (“how did you lose your keys twice in a week, Clint?”) and collapsed face-first on their beds for some much needed sleep. Saving the world on an almost-daily basis was exhausting and Natasha was the first to admit a few days in a nice spa in a tropical location sounded really good. But it wasn’t meant to be, apparently.

Instead, she opened her eyes to the sight of two men in the door opening wielding guns and flashlights. The only reason she didn’t fire the gun that was under her pillow and in her hand the second she laid eyes on the two guys, was the fact that the men weren’t aiming their guns at her or Clint, but at their ceiling. While staring at it.

“Upstairs, the attic. I’ll double check here and meet you up there?”

She was either too awake for this or not awake enough.

A quick glance at Clint on the other side of the room revealed he was in a similar state of confusion-and high alert. Clint was aiming a double-headed arrow at the intruders; one that would take them both out in half a second should Clint let go of his hold on the bow.

It seemed neither of the men had heard Clint or noticed that they barged in on two people sleeping. They just stood in the door opening and stared at the ceiling. The taller of the two men nodded at the shorter one’s suggestion of heading up into the attic and disappeared out of the condo. The shorter man took a few more steps inside and then finally noticed he wasn’t alone. “Holy shit!”

He recovered quickly and lowered his gun from the ceiling to aim it straight at Natasha and this is when she hooked her finger around her own trigger. “Hello. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Natasha smiled; the smile she used on marks. “I guessed. You probably also didn’t expect my friend here.”

She minutely jerked her head to where Clint was inching closer, the bow now barely held by fingertips, ready to spring free. The man glanced at Clint briefly before looking back at her with a matching smile to hers; equally calculated and fake. “Certainly didn’t. Who are you?”

“The people whose door you kicked down at 4 in the morning. Who are _you_?” Clint sounded less than impressed and Natasha almost laughed; Clint loved almost nothing more than sleeping and being woken by having a gun pointed at his face was on an actual list of “my least favorite ways to wake up”. It was the second to last entry. Clint laminated it.

“I’m the guy here to save you.”

This time Natasha did laugh. “Save _us_? From what exactly?”

“Ghosts.”

Definitely not awake enough.

*****

“--the hell?!”

“Not quite. I think. Maybe.”

Clint scowled at Dean with a shake of his head. “Ghosts, demons, fucking werewolves? You’re out of your mind, man. There’s no such thing.”

And yet there they were, standing in Clint’s apartment staring at the ceiling with two self-proclaimed ‘supernatural hunters’ listening to someone-something?-causing a ruckus upstairs. Dean insisted it was ghosts, especially since Sam had come back reporting cold spots and disembodied voices-both ghost-related signs apparently. Clint and Natasha refused to believe any of it, but didn’t really have an alternative explanation.

And the sounds continued.

“How have we never noticed this before?”

Clint shrugged. “I’m only here when we’re in the city on a mission and too tired to notice anything but my bed. Ditto for you. Though it’s never been this bad.”

The initial sounds of footsteps and voices had graduated to banging and moving furniture and screams in the ten minutes it took Sam to explore the attic and Dean to explain his delusion of being a ghost hunter. Though Natasha did have to give them a tiny bit of credit for claiming something was up there. They could all hear it after all.

Ghosts though?

“I’m calling Steve.”

Clint frowned. “Steve? It’s the middle of the night, he’s asleep.”

“Nah, he gets up at 4.30 every day for his run and workout. And we can use a super soldier to send in first.”

Clint grinned. “Fair enough. Call him, I’ll keep these two yahoos occupied.”

“Yahoos?!” Natasha ignored Dean’s indignant exclamation in favor of dialing Steve’s number and briefly explaining the situation to him. He promised to be there in fifteen minutes.

“Rock salt? You’re joking right?”

“I’m telling you, it works!”

Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint and Dean still going at it, when she caught Sam’s eye from across the room. The taller man grinned and rolled his eyes at them too. Natasha wasn’t sure about the man, but he seemed to at least share her exasperation. One point for the slightly less crazy man, though the jury was still out on them both.

Natasha took the ongoing distraction to quickly wash her face and brush her teeth. Just because you got woken up and threatened- _saved_ , she could hear Dean in her head correcting her and oh god, now he was in her head-didn’t mean you had to smell like a hobo. Nothing she could do about her sleep-rumpled clothes though; they didn’t plan for their mission to take so long they needed to crash at Clint’s condo so she didn’t have a change or even a pajama.

It would have to do. If Sam and Dean took offence it would be their problem; crazy people kicking down other people’s door claiming ghosts and demons, honestly.

She was still shaking her head at the thought of two men breaking down their door and waving guns with rock salt, of all things, at ghosts when her phone beeped with a message.

_Doing a fly-by in about 2mins, don’t be naked_

_Second thought, be naked_

“Fucking Stark.”

She dialed Tony and started speaking before he got a chance to say so much as hello. “Why the hell are you doing a fly-by, Stark? No-one invited you.”

Tony sounded amused, the bastard. “Our star-spangled leader called me in, said something about possible hostiles in your attic. I figured I’d check it out before accusing him of old age senile tendencies.”

Natasha let the silence speak for itself.

“Fine, I accused him of that anyway. But I was awake anyway so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check if any of the bastard critters from this afternoon somehow managed to hide away under your bed, waiting for a good moment to strike and kill Legolas.”

Natasha barely managed to not crush her phone in her grip or bite through her tongue in an effort not to do or say anything she might regret. Stark was kind of helpful every now and then. “Fine. Do your fly-by. Nothing to see though, apart from ghosts, apparently.”

“Ghosts?” Tony sounded alarmingly intrigued.

Natasha pinched her nose in an attempt to stay calm. “There’s no such thing as ghosts, Stark! Do your fly-by, don’t bother waving, and go back to your ugly Tower.”

“Oh how you wound me, miss Romanov!”

“Shut up, Tony.”

Tony’s cackling down the line was drowned out by the sound of the propulsions on his suit as he flew by the apartment’s window. For a brief moment the sound died down and then the red and gold suit slowly reappeared until it was hovering in front of the window. Tony gave a jaunty wave.

“Is that Iron man?” Dean sounded like a little kid on Christmas Day. Natasha shared another eye roll with Sam across the room.

Clint looked like he was about to say something scathing - Natasha would recognize the look on his face from a mile away - when another flying iron suit showed up right next to Tony.

Dean gasped as if he were about to swoon. “War Machine?!”

Natasha let out a resigned sigh. “Well, at least he didn’t wave.”

Clint looked at her apologetically. “Just wait until Steve shows up.”

**Steve**

“--the hell?!”

Natasha smirked at Steve. “Language, Captain!”

“Oh, bite me, Romanov.” But Steve couldn’t hide an embarrassed smile. He looked around the room with a mixture of exasperation and sternness. “Tony, thanks for coming. Not sure why the rest of you are here though. Rhodey? Vision? Wanda?”

Vision shrugged, or as much as a two month old android knew how to do. “I don’t sleep. I saw the call log from you to Tony and thought my help could be useful.”

Rhodey simply jerked his thumb at Tony. “I get a message when he takes a suit out. Which isn’t all the often anymore, so when he does it must be for something stupid or reckless. I figured I’d keep an eye on him.”

“I don’t know if I should be insulted that you think I only do stupid things in the suit these days, or flattered that you got my back buddy.” Tony did some kind of disturbing thing with his face that made it look like he was constipated and Steve quickly looked away. He wasn’t ready for an emotional Tony Stark this early in the morning, even if it was around his usual wake-up time. His rule of ‘no Tony Stark before four cups of coffee’ applied to any situation, even of the world-ending variety.

He shifted his gaze to Wanda, who was blushing a deep scarlet. “I felt his,” she nodded her head at Vision, “mind spike and didn’t want to miss anything.”

“It’s 5am.”

Wanda blushed even deeper red, but she didn't answer. Steve stared her down for a few more moment before deciding it was not important. Whatever was going on with her and Vision was none of his business so long as it didn't interfere with any Avengers business. He supposed he should be glad Sam didn’t decide to show up too; he was somewhere on the other side of the planet still chasing after glimpses of what they thought was Bucky. Instead, he focused on the two unknowns in the room; Dean and Sam Winchester.

“You said you were hunters.”

Sam nodded, but Dean seemed to be frozen in place, just staring at Steve with something close to reverence on his face. Steve wasn’t used to seeing it on grown people’s faces. Kids yes, but not thirty-year-old somethings. It was a bit unnerving if he was honest. He looked back at Sam, who seemed a lot more--normal, as far as people claiming they hear or see ghosts can be normal.

“We hunt the supernatural. You know, ghosts, demons, shtrigas, wendigos, you name it.”

“Right.” He might have to re-evaluate his definition of normal.

Before he could respond, there was an eardrum-shattering scream from directly above them, followed by a loud crash. Dean and Sam immediately drew their weapons. It shook Dean out of his star struck stupor and he took a few steps forward until he was standing in the middle of the room. He looked at Sam first. “Go, I’m right behind you.”

He then turned slowly around the room, looking at everyone in turn when he spoke forcefully and clearly. Steve would have been impressed if it hadn’t been for Dean actually hijacking the situation and assuming leadership over him.

“You all stay down here, me and Sam got this. Whatever you hear, don’t come up. We know what we’re doing and we have the guns for the job. Stay. Down. Here.”

Steve wasn’t the only one bristling at the blatant command, but he was the loudest. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but we are the Avengers. And up until now you’ve been staring at us as if you were going to piss yourself.” He ignored Stark giggling “Language, oh Captain, my Captain!” and took a few threatening steps closer to Dean. “How can I trust you to just take control of whatever is going on here and keep us all alive? Just leave it to us, alright? We’ve saved the earth from evil bastards before.”

Dean didn’t budge an inch, but his eyes widened until Steve thought they would pop out of their sockets. Dean briefly glanced at Sam with a gleeful expression on his face before he looked back at Steve with the same excited expression; whatever was upstairs completely forgotten. “Look Sammy, Captain America is talking to me!”

Sam sighed deeply - a regular occurrence, Steve guessed - and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yes Dean, I can see that. Captain America is not very happy right now though, so could you maybe ease up on the fanboying so we can gank those ghosts upstairs?”

Dean blinked a few times before stepping back. “Oh. Yeah. Ghosts. Right.” He looked around the room to the assembled Avengers and finally seemed to realize he had no leverage or influence in the room. He scowled. “Fine. I showed you mine. Show me yours.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow. Dean flushed. “Weapons! I meant weapons!”

Natasha stepped forward and put a hand on Steve’s arm. “Let it go, Steve. Whatever is up there is sounding more and more destructive by the minute. Let’s go.”

“Not without weapons, you don’t.” Steve had to admit he was impressed with Dean’s determination to his delusion of dangerous ghosts in Clint’s upstairs neighbors’ apartment. If it hadn’t been for the leering look on his face when he turned to Natasha. “Though you can show me whatever you want, darling.”

Natasha merely pulled a Taser from under her shirt - Steve had stopped guessing where she kept all her weapons without them ever showing a long time ago - and held it out on crotch-height. “Here’s mine.” She smiled sweetly at Dean. “Do you know what 50,000 volts do to a dick, Dean?”

Dean shook his head mutely.

“Want to find out?”

Dean shook his head again, violently this time.

Natasha smiled her icy smile at Dean again. “Too bad. I was up for a bit of rough playing tonight.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was terrified or aroused. Probably a bit of both. He could only imagine what Dean must be feeling.

Sam cleared his throat from the other side of the room and looked up at the ceiling pointedly. There were still noises coming from upstairs, though the blood-curdling screaming had stopped. “Think we can get on with it, please? Dean?”

There was a collective holding of breath when everyone looked at each other, sizing each other up, before Tony shrugged and uncovered, unlocked, flipped open, and slid out every. single. fucking. thing. on his Iron Man suit. “This enough to kill a ghost?”

Steve just groaned. Fucking _ghosts_.

*****

"--the hell?! A bow and arrow? Really? Who are you, Legolas?"

"That's what I said!"

"Shut up, Tony." Clint sighed deeply, seemed to count to ten in his head, before turning back to Dean. "Yes, I only have a bow and arrow. At least my arrows do more than season someone, unlike your little guns with salt."

Dean scowled at Clint before sidling up next to Sam, as if that would somehow make him tougher. Steve grinned when it only made Dean look shorter.

Natasha stood and slid her pistols from _somewhere_ into her hands and hooked her fingers around the triggers. "So boys, if you're done measuring your penises, can we get back to the main issue here?"

Dean smiled at Natasha, "My pleasure, ma'am", earning groans from the entire room.

Tony barked a laugh. "Bad move, Ken, she'll eat you for breakfast and still be hungry."

Before Dean could open his mouth, Steve put on his loud Captain voice and ordered everyone upstairs. “And for god’s sake, try not to kill each other.” He shot a warning look at Natasha. “Accidentally or otherwise.”

Natasha smiled her most innocent smile at him and turned on her heel. “Wouldn’t think about it, Cap.” She winked on her way past Dean, who grinned wolfishly. Steve had a dark feeling about those two.

A perfectly timed deep growl from upstairs supported his feeling.

Right. Supposed ghosts.

Except there weren’t any ghosts. He didn’t think so anyway. There was a lot of cold winds, blood-curdling screaming, nasty sulfur smells, growling from all sides, flying furniture, and not one single person or robot or _thing_ that they could see.

Something was there though. Something strong enough to knock him out cold, but not before frying Tony and Rhodey’s circuits, bending Clint’s arrows, jamming Natasha’s pistols and cuffs, terrifying Wanda so much she curled up into a ball in a corner somewhere with Vision in a state of confusion and shock standing in front of her unable to do anything but block her from anything else, and basically sweeping the floor with all of them in less than five minutes.

Everyone except the Winchesters.

When Steve came to, he was lying where he dropped. Everything was silent though, no more screams and growls and thumps of any kind. Just Dean’s voice and Natasha’s raspy reply.

“So now that we’ve established I am not crazy and there is actually such a thing as ghosts, how about I buy you a cup of coffee for the shock?”

“Did you not hear me say I was up for some rough play? I consider the ghosts foreplay, Winchester.”

Steve let his head drop back to the floor with a thud, hoping it would knock him out again. “Fucking ghosts.”


End file.
